A Yorkshire Lad

GERVASE
PHINN visited the Rickaro Bookshop in Horbury this afternoon
to sign copies of his autobiography, launched today, Road to the Dales
subtitled The Story of a Yorkshire Lad. Gervase doesn't sound like
a likely lad's name for someone born in Yorkshire in the 1950s; 'everyone around
me seemed to be called Terry or Tony or Trevor or Tom,' he recalls, 'As a child
you want to be one of the crowd, like everyone else, just ordinary. Being called
Gervase in post-war Rotherham certainly set me apart.'

'Isn't there a temptation,' I asked him, 'in writing an autobiography,
to settle old scores?'

There is, he admitted, but in the book he's only done it once.
I won't spoil the story for you, but I can see why in that one case he should
still feel a sense of injustice about what happened, even after all these years.

I
photograph him in storytelling mode for the bookshop website, forgetting that
it's asking the anti-shake device in my new camera too much to cope with my
shaky hands. I soon revert to drawing. He's got quite a following locally -
not least amongst teachers and former teachers (he has written about his years
as a school inspector) - and the bookshop is packed, which is quite a feat on
a dull drizzly afternoon, especially as half the shops on the High Street are
closed on Mondays, taking a break after the weekend. He soon gets people laughing
and he takes quite a while to get through the queue of people waiting for books
signing as he talks to every one of them . . . and occasionally bursts into
song too.

When
the rush has died down I sketch him looking a little more serious (right)
as he signs some extra copies for the bookshop stock. And, afer all that,
he has to sign one last copy for Barbara and I.